Luna, red hair on Regent Street

Red. That is what people remember first, and Luna knows it. Her hair is a dark auburn that reads as deep red under hotel lights, long and heavy, and she wears it down on purpose. She is 171 cm with a curvy figure and brown eyes that linger a beat longer than most. Her wardrobe is bold and edited, a white column dress, a black trouser suit, one pair of statement earrings. Early twenties, living in Mayfair, and nobody would ever call her shy.

Independence is her defining trait. Luna chooses her own wine, trusts her own instincts and changes her mind in public without embarrassment. She studies wine the serious way, tasting notes and all, and she takes photographs with an old film camera that makes strangers stop and ask about it. Theatre pulls her in whenever something new opens. Her English is direct and quick, with a bold streak of humour, and she will tell you honestly when a restaurant is overrated and where to eat instead.

Her West End starting point is Hotel Café Royal on Regent Street, where the gilded rooms feel like a stage and the bar knows how to pour a proper glass. She likes arriving a little early to watch the room fill. Dinner might stay in the building or move a few streets into Soho. Then back through the doors and upstairs, where she sits by the tall windows and critiques the wine list you ordered from, fairly, and usually correctly.

Luna keeps midweek evenings for the West End. See the rates, then tell the desk the hotel and the night you have in mind.